Chapter 008: All Day Long, It Was Just Mirai Clanging Shot After Shot~
"It's really all about hard work and sweat..."
Clang~
Clang~
Clang~
With the final three-point shot released, the ball playfully bounced three times on the rim before gently rolling into the net on the last touch. The prominent numbers in Mirai's mind finally settled at zero.
[0]
[00:19]
With just 19 minutes remaining, Mirai had stubbornly gritted through the 'Effort and Sweat Mission' by pushing beyond his physical limits.
In the system panel, the video footage for 'Advance On-Demand' instantly switched. The highlight moments from yesterday's game compilation disappeared, replaced by training material showing repeated shooting drills and sweat-drenched practice sessions from today. The small label in the bottom right that originally read 'Played' changed to 'Almost Never Airballs'.
"Completed!"
An overwhelming sense of accomplishment surged through him, making him unconsciously exclaim aloud.
[Almost Never Airballs: Average game three-point shooting percentage 45%]
Though not as absurd as yesterday's Advance On-Demand 'Almost Never Airballs' at 80%, achieving a stable 45% three-point shooting percentage during games through sheer effort was absolutely worthy of a top-tier three-point shooter.
Even the great Stephen Curry never reached the 45% line in his career three-point percentage.
Of course...
Comparing the sci-fi level basketball setting of Kuroko's Basketball to reality was somewhat unfair. After all, Midorima Shintarō after blooming maintained an unreasonable 100% shooting percentage as long as his form remained unchanged, with terrifying full-court range that made every shot from any corner a deadly threat.
But he wasn't doing badly either now.
At least...
He was almost reaching half of Midorima's level, wasn't he?
"Haa..."
Mirai let out a long breath, as if trying to expel all the accumulated fatigue from his lungs.
Simultaneously, his entire body seemed to have its bones removed as he collapsed directly onto the floor.
Thinking back now, this entire process had been utterly exhausting, especially the last 10 shots, where he needed an exaggerated 60+ attempts with a pitiful shooting percentage below 15%.
Approaching the mission's completion, every clanging sound of a missed shot felt like a hammer striking his heart, making him both panicked and anxious.
"Haa..."
Gasping for air heavily.
His chest was rising and falling violently.
The moment the mission completed, the tightly wound string in his heart suddenly loosened, and overwhelming fatigue instantly submerged him. Only then did he realize how exhausted he was—he didn't even want to move a single finger.
After catching his breath for a full five minutes, feeling blood gradually returning to his numb limbs, a slow, satisfied smile crept onto Mirai's lips.
Coming back to his senses.
Looking around.
Only then did he notice all the team members were gathered around watching him, each face filled with astonishment. Coach Akira, who was sitting on the bench by the court, was also looking at him with a peculiar expression.
Seeing that Mirai had recovered somewhat from resting in place, Coach Akira approached him, "Truly amazing... you finally stopped. Excluding the lunch break for recovery and eating, it's been over 10 hours."
"Is this the training method you were talking about?" Coach Akira pointed at the basketballs scattered across the floor and Mirai's exhausted body sprawled on the ground. He paused, his brow slightly furrowed, before finally unable to contain his skepticism. "This kind of low-accuracy shooting practice..." He seemed to be carefully choosing his words. "Is it really effective?"
Although he had agreed to let Mirai train independently for the day, watching the session unfold had only made him more anxious. This approach of prioritizing quantity over precision in shooting practice was utterly baffling, completely contradicting decades of his basketball knowledge. Thus, Coach Akira couldn't help but voice his doubts.
"No problem," Mirai replied with complete seriousness. "I trained like this during the break, and you saw the results yesterday—surprisingly effective."
Coach Akira fell silent for a moment, staring at Mirai's earnest face.
He clearly remained skeptical.
After all...
Throughout the day, all he had witnessed was Mirai clanking one missed shot after another.
"How about testing it out in a real game?"
"Huh?" Coach Akira was taken aback by the suggestion. "Are you in any condition to play now?"
"Yeah."
"If it's just 1v1 and only three-pointers... I rested for a bit earlier, so I think I can manage a few shots."
Mirai was also eager to test out what had truly become his permanent ability. Coach Akira nodded, his eyes scanning the court before quickly locking onto a target. He pointed toward Shinshu behind him. Shinshu blinked in surprise but soon understood, jogging over to the half-court where Mirai stood.
Looking at Mirai—tired yet with bright, determined eyes—Shinshu was surprised to see how relaxed his expression appeared.
Throughout the day of that insane shooting drill, Mirai's face had been tense, his brows tightly knit, his gaze sharp as a blade. Later, his expression had grown almost ferocious, growing more twisted with each missed shot.
But now, the moment training ended, it was as if he had instantly shed a thousand-pound burden.
Quite the contrast.
As these thoughts crossed his mind, Shinshu passed the ball over and quickly sank into a defensive stance, lowering his center of gravity. The two were similar in height—181 cm versus 177 cm—but worlds apart in athleticism and skill.
However...
Judging by the abilities Mirai had displayed in yesterday's game...
Shinshu knew that the person standing before him now was no longer the same Mirai who could only focus on basic drills during club practice.
The next moment.
Swish~!
A sharp dribble echoed through the silent gym. By the time Shinshu registered it, Mirai had already executed a clean triple-threat fake into a crossover, followed by a step-back, creating just enough space to shoot!
Defensive habits had made Imatsu careless.
Beyond the three-point line...
Mirai could create separation with a step-back.
Whoosh~!
Swish~!
Nothing but net!
The crisp sound of the ball passing through the net was especially pleasing in the quiet gym.
At the same time.
Standing face-to-face with Mirai, personally experiencing the decisiveness and fluidity of his three-point release, Shinshu truly understood just how terrifying the pressure and confidence in Mirai's shooting had become.
"So incredible..."
Shinshu couldn't help but murmur under his breath.
Meanwhile, Mirai stretched his somewhat stiff shoulders and neck, feeling quite satisfied with the three-pointer he had just made against Shinshu. Although the sensation wasn't as strong as during yesterday's match, there was no doubt that familiar feeling of control and the confidence when releasing the ball had returned.
Moreover...
He understood clearly in his heart.
The so-called "average three-point shooting percentage of 45% in games" clearly referred to a certain level rather than a fixed 45% three-point rate—otherwise the qualifier "average" wouldn't have been used.
In other words, during games when his shooting felt particularly good, or in situations like this 1v1 with less defensive pressure compared to official matches, he could definitely shoot above 45%.
After all...
Even Curry once made 103 consecutive three-pointers during practice.